Gray skies fill the horizon. The sky is gray and drab, the clouds are gray and drab. A chill is in the air and I can't seem to get past this gray funk I am drowning in.
No lights grace the entrance to my home. There is no tree to adorn. I feel gray inside. All I want to do is sleep. Don't want to eat, don't even want to shop ..............
Wait, did I say that out loud. No, you say, it cannot be. A woman who does not long to shop and fill her home with wonderful values.
I lolled the day away in my sloppy sweats yesterday. I reheated the same cup of coffee twice and sat, hunched over the keyboard, clicking my childhood away. Did not even shower or wash my hair. By the end of the day, it was standing on end.
So, this morning, with grave determination, I arose, drank my single serving of coffee and showered, dressed and even put on make-up. Unlike the people of WalMart, I try hard not to frighten small children when I am out and about.
I forced myself out the door and started my trusty mode of transportation. I heard a rumor. The Walmart in Mexico (the city, not the country) still had a fabric department. Will wonders never cease? Just what the doctor ordered. If chemical therapy fails me, surely the touch, the feel of fabric will suffice. I hold that thought of self medication as I navigate the almost 40 miles to get my fix.
I march smartly past the greeter and grace him with a beautific smile. I am humming "Anticipation" as I meander slowly towards my habit. First I make myself go down the pet aisle. I grab a pink ball for Oscar, soft treats for Emmy and Beggin strips for the younger ones. This WalMart has a bigger selection and I am drawn to the remedies. I spy a treatment that will prevent the eating of poop. Really, I am not kidding. Emmy has been known to treat herself to already digested dog food. Nasty little habit and for $3, I can prevent this. Amazing. Whatever, I will give it a whirl.
Feeling smug and satisfied, I push my cart along. I made use of the handy-dandy disinfectant wipes at the door, so I also feel healthy. Well, maybe that is pushing it.
I stop in linens. Just looking to see if they have decent sheets with a high thread count and deep pockets. They do, actually. But I am loathe to part with $75 for sheets when I need a fabric fix. Instead I compromise and score a set of sheet garters. The elastic is losing it's grip and the fitted sheet won't stay taut. I hate wrinkly sheets. The garters should do the trick.
I am getting close. I can smell the fabric! I push my clean handled cart along as I run my hands over cottons and blends and polyesters and I am in my happy place. Then I see it! The clearance section. I suck in my breath and dive in. I got some nice twill for jumpers and corduroy, too. ALL ON SALE. Full price, even a decent price does not make me happy, it must be dirt cheap to make me feel noble. And may I just say, that I am very noble.
I get the pieces cut and head off to get the necessities of a Thanksgiving feast for two. Celery and chicken stock. Because the store is unfamiliar I am forced to go up and down each and every aisle. My fabric elation is wearing off. I am finding things I forgot I needed and it isn't too crowded. I should feel fine. I should.
But, there it is, tickling my spine and waiting to attack. I have not had a full panic attack in years. But I know what is about to happen if I don't get out of this place. If not for the precious bundle of cut fabric nestled in that cart, I would simply have walked away and driven home. I made it to the check out lane and the closeness of the merchandise stacked on either side of me saved me. The calm descended and I was able to pay and get out. The cold wind in my face was refreshing and I made it home just fine.
It has occurred to me that maybe my dosage needs to be adjusted.